


Poultry in Motion

by sagansjagger



Series: Domestic Cavities [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Good Significant Other Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Married Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Married Couple, Married Life, Nightmares, Pregnancy, Realistic, Realistic pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24395518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sagansjagger/pseuds/sagansjagger
Summary: When a very pregnant Marinette begs for fried chicken at ten o'clock at night, Adrien mounts his Vespa and ventures out into a blizzard to go get it for her.Cue anxiety spirals.TRIGGER WARNING: Realistic pregnancy. Do not read if the idea of pregnancy freaks you out.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Series: Domestic Cavities [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1851151
Comments: 45
Kudos: 135





	Poultry in Motion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Frisian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frisian/gifts).



“You want what?” Adrien said, as a very pregnant Marinette laced her fingers together in front of her mouth, hopping from foot to foot in front of him in their apartment’s living room. 

“Fried chicken,” Marinette said, feeling her mouth water. She craved salt. And grease. She craved chunks of white meat battered and cooked to golden-brown perfection in hot oil. “Last time it was burritos with lime-cilantro rice and sour cream, I know, but… this time it’s fried chicken.”

“I… It’s past ten o’clock,” Adrien said, glancing to the window, where the hand-embroidered curtains Marinette had made while she was nesting were drawn. “And there’s a blizzard out there. I don’t think Ellsworth will be open.”

“Please, Adrien?” Marinette said, flashing him the kitten eyes. She knew he couldn’t resist the kitten eyes. 

Adrien sighed. “Anything for you, Mari.”

But as Adrien started donning his winter weather gear, sliding on his thick jacket and gloves, Marinette began to think that his going out was a bad idea. 

“It’s dark out there,” she told him, winding the old, blue scarf she’d knitted for him back in college around his neck. “And you’re on a Vespa. What if something happens to you?” 

Panic ratcheted up her heart rate. Nothing could happen to her husband. She wouldn’t know what to do if something happened to him.

Words dropped from her lips in a rush. “What if the roads are icy? What if someone hits you with their car? What if you freeze to death in the snow? What if--” 

“Marinette,” Adrien said, catching her waving hands and kissing her fingers. “I’ll be fine. I… I hate to ask this, but have you taken your Tofranil tonight?”

“No, not yet,” Marinette said, her shoulders sagging. She didn’t like the idea of taking anti-anxiety medication during her pregnancy. But as it progressed, her fearful emotions overwhelmed her. She kept having nightmares--common in pregnancy--of boiling the baby alive in the bathtub, and other horrible things. Despite her bone-deep exhaustion, Marinette had refused to sleep for a while, until Adrien had convinced her to take the meds for her own health and the health of their child.

Thankfully, all the studies she’d voraciously consumed had found no conclusive evidence of tricyclic antidepressants harming a developing infant. And now Adrien had gently reminded her that she was chained to the medication. He only wanted the best for her and their baby, she knew. 

Marinette kicked at an imaginary rock. She hated imaginary rocks. “I should go take that.” 

“Please do,” Adrien said, smiling at her right before he raised his green face mask over his nose. She couldn’t see his lips as he spoke his next words. “It wouldn’t do to have you spiraling while I’m out there getting you fried chicken. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Marinette wished she could call her therapist. Adrien was her steady presence, her real rock, and he was leaving her alone in the middle of the night. All because she’d had a stupid, _stupid_ craving.

“Okay, I’m off,” Adrien said, approaching the front door. Marinette followed, skittering after him. He placed his hand on the handle, but then turned back to her. “By the way, why do chickens lay eggs?”

“What?” Marinette said, staring at him with wide eyes. “I… I don’t know? Why do chickens lay eggs?”

His eyes crinkled, showing her his smile even though the face mask hid his mouth. “Because if they dropped them, they’d break.”

Marinette barked out a laugh. “Go, Adrien. I’ll be fine.”

She was not fine.

After Adrien left, Marinette immediately went to the kitchen and downed her dose of Tofranil. The medication was supposed to make her sleepy, but the effects wouldn’t kick in for another twenty minutes at least. 

So she paced, wearing a furrow in the hardwood planks of the living room floor. She bit her nails, chewing them down to the quicks in a bad habit that Adrien had always hated. Her thoughts spiraled just like Adrien warned her against, dragging her down into a pit of worry. 

_What if he never comes back?_ Marinette thought, biting her knuckles. _What if he crashes, and some dour policeman comes to the front door and tells me that my love is a smear on the pavement and I need to go identify his body and oh, gosh, I’ll never see him again except as as a lifeless body on the cold, cold morgue slab?_

She stopped pacing, hugging herself. “You’re being ridiculous, Marinette. Adrien wouldn’t want you to spiral.”

Marinette had to make a plan. She was good at making plans, especially as Ladybug. She and Chat had defeated Adrien’s father years ago, so when they found that Ladybug was no longer as needed as she had once been, Marinette had finally grown comfortable enough to try for a baby. She and Adrien had attempted to conceive for years, suffering several miscarriages along the way. 

Finally, just when they’d given up trying, she fell pregnant again. And stayed that way. 

Fears about something horrible happening to the baby plagued Marinette. Fears about something happening to Adrien were a close second. Fears about Hawkmoth returning once Gabriel was released from prison were a distant third.

She heavily regretted giving Tikki to Mylene, especially given the kwami’s love of all things creation. Miraculouses did a number on the body during pregnancy, and it wasn’t safe for Marinette to be a holder, much less fighting villains as Ladybug. Out of solidarity, Adrien had given up Plagg, who had ended up with Ivan. 

Tikki had helped Mylene conquer her fears and perform beautifully as Ladybug. The two new superheroes did a wonderful job keeping Paris safe. Marinette trusted them and in their relationship.

But now she was spinning in circles. And had to make a plan. She drew a breath through her nose, held it for five seconds, and then released the oxygen through her mouth.

First, she’d drink a huge glass of water. Then she’d tune into a guided meditation app on her phone. Then, if Adrien still weren’t home, she could do some knitting. Marinette still needed to make those black booties with the dayglo green paw prints on the bottom before the baby arrived. 

_Water, meditation, knitting. Easy enough._

She hustled to the kitchen, reminding herself to slow down just as she arrived in the white tiled room. After flicking the lights on, Marinette crossed to the cabinet and pulled out a thirty-two ounce mason jar. Filling the jar at the tap, she downed half the cold, delicious water. “Ahhh,” she said, exhaling in a sigh. “Much better.”

After turning the lights off in the kitchen, she hoofed it to the stairs to head to her and Adrien’s bedroom, where she’d left her phone plugged in. Drawing a shaky breath through her nose, she tugged the USB-C cable out of the bottom, and tapped the screen to wake the phone up. The battery display told her the electronic was fully charged.

Sitting cross-legged on her and Adrien’s king-sized bed, Marinette scrolled through her phone, calling up the meditation app. The voiceover work was done by a former Buddhist monk, and was peaceful enough to steady her nerves.

“Imagine you’re sitting on a porch in a comfortable chair on a sunny day,” the app began, and Marinette closed her eyes. 

Following the app, she imagined the sun traveling up her feet, crawling over her knees, and pooling in her hips. She felt the warmth gathering in her large belly, covering her swollen breasts, and filling her cheeks. The imaginary sun chilled her out.

She felt peaceful. Unruffled. Calm.

Calmer, anyway. 

Marinette breathed. She felt the air filling her chest and belly, expanding her ribs. She looked down at her breasts and cursed. She’d been leaking colostrum again, and her cotton bra felt wet.

Then she felt them: the fluttering kicks that indicated Hugo was awake.

Honestly, they felt like gas bubbles. But then Hugo turned his entire body over, and Marinette felt _that_ , even watching her large stomach press outward from the inside.

She smiled a little. “Hello, baby.”

It used to freak her out, the idea of having a living being growing inside her. A parasite, sucking nutrients from her body and calcium from her teeth to build his bones. But she wanted a baby, wanted him bad--and so did Adrien--so she swallowed the weirdness of pregnancy and everything that that implied.

Mostly. Feeling Hugo jamming his feet into her diaphragm and doing jumping jacks on her bladder was still unnerving as heck.

Speaking of bladders… Marinette shut off the meditation app and booked it to the bathroom to relieve herself. She was amazed at how tiny her bladder had shrunk. It was about the size of a walnut now. With a seven pound body pressing on her organs, compressing them, her ability to hold her pee had been severely compromised. 

Marinette was only surprised that she hadn’t had to run to the toilet before her fifteen-minute meditation was up. She had drunk a lot of water earlier, after all.

Nerves still slightly jittery and being kicked by Hugo, Marinette plugged her phone in. She retrieved her knitting needles and black and green yarn balls, and retreated to the couch downstairs. This way, she could hear Adrien coming back as soon as he came through the front door.

She settled into the plump cushions, and started adding stitches to the tiny bootie. She was amazed at how small the pattern was for the shoe. Hugo felt so massive inside her, but she knew that he would be truly a person in miniature after all was said and done. She just didn’t know _how_ little he’d be. A seven-pound baby felt huge when he was sticking his butt under her ribs.

She lost herself in the knitting, fingers flying on the needles, brought back to the present moment only by the little gas bubbles that were Hugo moving around. Marinette finished one bootie, purling a paw print into the bottom, and started on the other.

But something felt wrong.

She was starving.

Marinette checked the clock on the wall, and instantly, her anxiety was back.

 _Adrien should be back by now,_ she thought, discarding her knitting on the couch and standing. _It’s been two hours since he left._

Marinette started to pace in the room, once again wearing a furrow in the hardwood floor. Her fingers clutched at air, tensing and releasing again. She panted, her stomach growling and brain synapses firing, and nearly tripped when she spun in circles. 

Worst-case scenarios kept playing in her head: Adrien in a car crash. Adrien slipping onto the ice and hitting his head, ending up with a brain bleed. Adrien freezing to death.

She bit her knuckles again, chewing on the bony protrusions of her hands, leaving indentations from her teeth. Marinette couldn’t handle this. He’d left her, _he’d left her_ , and he was never coming back.

Just when she was about to cry, frustrated tears gathering at the corners of her eyes, she heard a noise.

The door handle jiggled.

She whirled in place, skidding on the floor in her socks, and bolted as fast as she could to the front door. Throwing it open, she saw Adrien, her husband, her love, beaming up at her with his eyes. 

He looked like a yeti. He was covered in snow.

“I’ve got your fried chicken,” that wonderful man, Adrien Agreste, said. He held up a huge, paper bag by the handles. 

Marinette’s sense of smell had been cranked up to eleven ever since she’d conceived. The aromas of grease and salt and meat wafted up to her from the bag, and they were the most delicious scents she’d ever had the pleasure to smell. Her mouth watered. 

“Thank you, Adrien,” Marinette said, taking the bag for him as he stepped inside, onto the welcome mat. He stomped his feet and lowered his iced-over face mask so she could give him a kiss on the cheek. She brushed snow off his shoulders and chest, and stepped back. “Thank you so very, very much.”

Normally she’d be more concerned about how cold he was, but she was starving. He’d brought her ambrosia, and she needed to consume it before she went mad.

Marinette brought the savory-smelling meal to the dining room table, and tore into the paper bag. There was a whole bucket of chicken: breasts, drumsticks, thighs. She picked up one of the breasts and sunk her teeth into it. 

The chicken was cold, but it was the most amazing flavor she’d ever had. The meat was thick and juicy; the breading crispy and well-seasoned. Adrien had bought her herbed buttermilk dipping sauce, and the combination of fried chicken and sauce combined into a meal fusing the full axis of sweet and savory, creamy and crunchy all at once.

She’d devoured four pieces in a mad frenzy before Adrien joined her downstairs in his flannel pajama bottoms and a white Jagged Stone T-shirt. “Like it?”

“Mmmm,” Marinette moaned around a full mouth, and he laughed.

“By the way, how can a hen lay an egg everyday?” Adrien asked, and she gave him an expectant look, humming around the crunch of fried batter in her mouth. She wasn’t about to answer with her mouth full. Marinette raised a brow, and he seemed to get the hint. “Hen-durance.” 

She barked out another laugh, covering her lips to make sure none of the amazing food fell out of them. Chewing and swallowing, she groaned at him. Then she smacked his shoulder, making him smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I know,” Adrien said, kissing her cheek. “But you love me anyway.”

“Very much so,” Marinette said, and tore another hunk of white meat off the bone with her teeth. She swallowed, and then asked, “What took you so long?”

Adrien shook his head. “Ellsworth wasn’t open. Neither was Hells Chicken, which is across town. And neither were the other three places I tried.”

“Oh, my goodness,” Marinette said, blinking at him. “I’m so sorry for the trouble, Adrien.”  
‘  
Adrien waved a hand. “It’s fine, I know how intense pregnancy cravings can be.”

“No,” Marinette said, snarfing down more chicken, “you don’t.”

Adrien chuckled. “Okay, maybe I don’t.”

“Where did you find this chicken? It’s amazing.”

“Verjus Bar a Vins,” Adrien said, grinning. “It’s a little hole in the wall, but the Yelp reviews said they have the best fried chicken in Paris.”

“I believe them,” Marinette said, stuffing the last of her meal into her mouth. She discarded the rib bones, and reached for a drumstick. “Did you want any of this? If you don’t, I’ll eat the whole bucket.”

“No, I’m good,” Adrien said, looping an arm around her shoulders and giving her a brief squeeze. “I’m here now, though, so go ahead and enjoy your food.”

So she did.

**Author's Note:**

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> 
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